A few weeks ago my parents came to visit me on the farm for the first time. It was so much fun to spend time with them in the garden, show them all of the critters, and go exploring for a few days in the area.
One particularly great day, we went and explored the Bull River area, driving over the bridge and past the dam and up, up, up the river. This was my journal entry afterwords, which I’d like to share with you all.
My Mom was standing on the bridge, looking out at the river, just taking it all in.
I could tell she was thinking. She was logging the scenery into the catalogue that is her artist-brain. She was taking in the details, the colours, the shades, light and tones. The jaggedness of the rocks and the juxtaposition of the trees.
Later we talked about it, how she was so obviously “taking a photo with her mind” and how she wanted to remember that moment forever.
“That’s why photos are so great,” she said.
Then we discussed how photos don’t always do it justice, even if you have an amazing lens, because when you’re in a place such as this, it’s more about the feeling you get. The experience of it all.
The rushing, loud, cold, ice blue water. The feeling of your stomach dropping to your feet as you peer over the edge of the bridge.
The feeling of showing your family a place that is so dear to your heart.
The familiar smell of petrichor.
The mountains high in the distance, towering over you with their majestic beauty.
The bumpy road and the country music playing on the radio.
The wildlife that hides and plays and hunts on the mountains.
Everything is so different yet lives in such complete and utter harmony. In one way or another, the natural order of things.
How do you describe that feeling you get? The feeling of being a human being; connecting to nature and being humbled by it.
To feel that you are just a tiny, insignificant spec; an ant on an ant hill.